


Courting the Opposition

by theskywasblue



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't that Arthur was a prude or anything...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting the Opposition

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://dr-zook.livejournal.com/profile)[**dr_zook**](http://dr-zook.livejournal.com/) on the anniversary of her birth ;) she wanted a "properly licked" Arthur, so...yeah. (It's also terrible, so I hope she forgives me...)

“Fuck – Eames – what the hell!”

Eames pulled back, looking a little stunned, his hand on his cheek where Arthur’s heel had grazed him when he lashed out. “What the hell indeed.”

“You don’t...You don’t just put your tongue...” Arthur wheezed slightly in what he refused to believe was embarrassment, scooting back on the bed until his shoulders hit the headboard, “ _down there_ without – fuck – _warning me_ or something.”

Eames raised an eyebrow, his face clearly warring between frustration and amusement. “So it’s fine for your cock, but no lower than that? Is there a line of demarcation somewhere that I’m not aware of?”

“Yes,” Arthur responded, firmly – now resisting the urge to _actually_ kick Eames in the head. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he was still very much aroused and wanted Eames conscious and able to do something about that in the near future. “Yes there is, and now you know about it, so keep your tongue away from my ass, got it?”

Eames rocked back on his heels, and Arthur could literally _see_ the wheels turning in his head. There might as well have been smoke coming out of his ears. “I’m just trying to gain some understanding here – you think it’s weird?”

“Unsanitary,” Arthur corrected, jabbing at Eames with his foot. “I didn’t say weird.”

“Yet you’ll allow me to come on your face – while you wear stockings and garters, no less.”

Arthur blushed so deeply that his head started to throb. “That was a special occasion.”

"Oh, definitely." Eames' sharp-edged grin softened slowly, and he leaned against Arthur's knee, mouthing the skin as he muttered, "I would never want you to be uncomfortable..."

Arthur did kick him then, though not as hard as he felt Eames actually deserved. "But?"

"But I want quite desperately to get my tongue in, on or around every possible inch of your very enchanting person."

"You're sick." He didn't mean it, really; except that he did. It wasn't that Arthur was a prude or anything – far from it – but there were just some things...

Eames shrugged, not offering any resistance, butlooking about as contrite as Arthur had ever seen him.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“You could have a shower first,” Eames suggested, trailing fingers down the inside of Arthur’s left thigh, causing him to break out in goose bumps. “I could brush my teeth...” the backs of his knuckles bumped Arthur’s cock, and then glided teasingly over the sensitive skin, making Arthur hiss softly. “Whatever would make you comfortable.”

“God,” Arthur raked his hand back through his hair, gritted his teeth together. It was hard to say no when Eames looked at him like that, all burning focus, with the full force of his stupid, infuriating charisma. When he slid his tongue over the plump fullness of his lips, all Arthur could think about was how amazingly talented that tongue was, for whatever task Eames put it to – and the more he thought about that, the more he wondered how it would feel to have that talented tongue glide over the taught skin of his balls, push behind them and rub over his hole...

“You’re thinking about it right now.” Eames’ soft chuckle startled him, made him flinch against the headboard. “And here I’m always saying you have no imagination.”

“I – “ Arthur started, realizing too late that there was no point denying it. The back of Eames’ hand was resting delicately against the length of Arthur’s cock, and a thick, pearly bead of come was leaking down the shaft and across Eames’ palm.

They were silent for a long moment, watching each other – not the way they sometimes did, playfully sizing each other up – just Eames waiting for Arthur's decision, and Arthur, trying to make one.

"God, fine." Arthur shoved Eames out of the way with one foot, and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and doing his damnedest to make himself comfortable. The position felt like surrender, but there was no way in hell he would be able to deal with watching Eames do _that_ – if he wanted to maintain his sanity.

"I'm going to pretend you're not acting as if this is some terrible hardship for you," Eames snorted dryly; but as Arthur was trying to formulate a witty quip in response, the touch of a hand on his back made him nearly leap out of his skin. He clenched his fists in the pillow, bracing for Eames' mocking laughter; instead, Eames’ hands smoothed over his shoulders and down his back.

“Easy does it, darling. It’s just me, remember?”

“Because I could just forget,” Arthur huffed, tucking himself back against the bed again, swallowing his embarrassment. Eames chuckled, but didn’t say anything more; he simply smoothed his hands down Arthur’s back to his hips, then up again, applying gentle pressure to the muscles. Arthur had no objections at all to that particular treatment – Eames had strong hands and a mastery of particular pressure points that had probably been gained illicitly. It wasn’t hard for Arthur to let the tension run out of his muscles like water off a rock – though it didn’t escape his notice that with each pass, Eames’ hands wandered lower and lower; but they simply worked over his ass, paying it no more attention than his shoulders or his back, and then went lower, over his thighs, down his calves to his feet. The effect was mesmerizing, and pretty soon, Arthur had virtually forgotten why he was there in the first place.

When, on one particular pass, Eames applied gentle pressure to the insides of Arthur's thighs, Arthur found he had no qualms about sliding his legs apart. He only shuddered minutely when he felt Eames' hot breath and a wet flicker of tongue against the back of his neck.

"Now would be the time to voice any of your remaining objections, Arthur."

Arthur huffed into the pillow, "Would you listen to them?"

"Of course. What kind of man do you take me for?"

"A shameless one."

Eames pressed his lips to Arthur's shoulder, muffling his laughter, "Well, you've got me there."

His lips and tongue traced over Arthur's shoulder, down the length of his back, leaving slick trails that prickled the skin when exposed to the air. Arthur began to feel his latent tension returning, and measured out his breathing, curling and uncurling his fingers in the sheets. By all rights, this shouldn't have been a big deal – after all, Eames' tongue had at one point or another graced every _other_ inch of Arthur's body – and it was true that he and Eames had, on occasion, done things that could probably be considered far kinkier; but everyone had their hang-ups, and having Eames' tongue in his ass was the one act which, to Arthur anyway, seemed...impossibly intimate. The last border Eames had to cross to complete his total invasion of Arthur's person. Arthur was still of two minds about whether he wanted that to happen. After all, the entire purpose of Arthur's life was shaped around minimizing risk, and Eames – well, Eames was always risky.

Then again, Arthur had started the whole thing in the first place, so maybe he wasn't as adverse to risk as he liked to pretend.

Eames' tongue touched the very top of the cleft of Arthur's ass, and he flinched, distracted, hissing through his teeth in surprise. Eames didn't pause, however. His palms cupped Arthur's ass, spreading his cheeks apart and his tongue slid down until its touch forced Arthur to make an embarrassing sound in the back of his throat.

That it felt good was really no surprise – it was only different than what he was used to, stimulating a whole new selection of nerves that other forms of foreplay glossed over – not because of carelessness on Eames' part, but because the goal was different. Every press of tongue made muscle clench and relax. Beyond that, he could feel the stubble on Eames' cheeks scratching at the backs of his thighs, the soft, damp puff of breath every time he exhaled; and the noises his mouth made against Arthur's body were _obscene_...

Eames stopped abruptly, drawing back, leaving Arthur almost painfully exposed and choking back a frantic noise in his throat.

"I can hear you _thinking_ , Arthur. It's very distracting."

Arthur had a quip in mind for his response, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was something like, "Ngh..."

Eames laughed, rubbing one cheek against the small of Arthur's back, "I'm glad it's not taking away from _your_ enjoyment. Be a love and go up on your knees for me, would you?"

Arthur would think later about how he didn't offer up even a token of protest, just pulled his knees up under himself – slippery against the sheets – and rested his forehead on his folded arms, his breath echoing back at him from against the pillow in a sharp rasp.

"There now," Eames spread him again, and Arthur was holding his breath even before the first lick came, "not so bad, is it, letting me have a little taste."

"Fuck, Eames..." Arthur lost the battle to hold back the sound in his throat as Eames tongue slid over him again, "shut up."

"You would just rather my mouth were doing other things," Eames teased, this time rubbing the flat of his tongue against Arthur's hole, applying pressure until Arthur felt the muscle soften, entirely against his will, and Eames' tongue slip inside.

"God - dammit..." Arthur tilted his head, gulping breaths of cooler air. His cock throbbed between his legs, feeling huge and heavy, but he couldn't bring himself to reach for it – every time he tried he was distracted by the slippery, determined motion of Eames tongue or the clench of fingers against the muscles of his ass. His shoulders started to shake, and Arthur bowed his back, fighting the urge to rock back and impale himself on Eames’ torturous tongue; the blood was roaring so loudly in his ears that he could hardly hear anything else, but he was aware of air escaping his lungs, of his throat working up and down, and though it terrified him to think of what he might be saying, he couldn’t focus enough to stop.

Then Eames’ thumb pressed against his perineum, tormenting a new set of nerves that Eames’ tongue couldn’t reach – though definitely not for lack of trying – and skimmed up over spit-slicked skin until it brushed the edge of Arthur’s hole, stretched the rim just short of actually pushing inside – and there was nothing Arthur could do but come.

Eames leaned over him as he caught his breath, enveloping Arthur with his bulk, reaching around to stroke Arthur’s chest and stomach, nuzzling the back of his shoulder, mouth warm and cock hard, nudging in between Arthur’s cheeks.

“I’m still willing to listen to your objections, darling.”

Arthur swallowed thickly and brought a shaking hand up to push hair and sweat off his forehead. “Just...give me a minute.”

He could feel Eames’ grin against his shoulder, “And you’ll think of some?”

Arthur pushed his hips back Eames’ breath hitched gratifyingly. He could only wish he still had some objections; not that Eames had to know anything about that – he tended to get cocky if Arthur let him have too many wins.

Though...Arthur was almost willing to let him have this one.

Almost.

-End-


End file.
